Quick warning and disclaimer… This entry is pure therapy for me, offering almost no reading entertainment for you....
2 AM I woke up from a whopper of a nightmare. A new variation on a common theme: back in my childhood situation trying to save myself and protect Amber and sometimes even Bobby. This time it was the dogs; Ledger and Hurley. I woke up sobbing harder than usual and then my mind exploded with a Pandora’s Box of memories. I hadn’t exactly ‘suppressed’ them; I have total recall now but had completely forgotten….
A little history is necessary at this point…
From about age seven until fourteen I was under the complete control of an ignorant, white-trash, sexual-sadist, drug addicted, habitually unemployed, sociopath (undiagnosed, in the interest of full disclosure) who my mother married. A few close friends have heard some of the more interesting and/or entertaining anecdotes from those days. Professionals have heard, in excruciating detail, every story I remember. Occasionally something will trigger a random memory flash, usually just arbitrary incidents of no real importance or interest. Not this time.
Falling in love with first Hurley and then Ledger, I kept saying I couldn’t believe I’d gone my whole life without knowing this special love and happiness that a dog brings to every single day. I hadn’t though. I’ve had a dog, dogs before!
Gunner was the name of my dog when I was 9. He was a small, light tan mixed-breed ball of energy and love. I spent every available moment with him. Surprised that a puppy locked in the bathroom all day will chew at the door, they tied him up outside. Even though we lived in a rural trailer park, 8 months of barking when he was alone during the day, they sent him to live in town with a friend and then he was ‘stolen’ when I asked to visit him. I was heartbroken but not surprised.
Waldo and Agnes were the pair of non-papered Irish Setters that he bought to breed and make money from selling the puppies. We lived in town at this point so they had a minuscule fenced off section in the corner of the back yard, about 15x20. Those poor creatures spent 98% of their time in that little pen. I wasn’t allowed to take them out or play with them. However, it was my job to feed and water them each day and to clean the pen once a week. (Strange, I don’t remember ever throwing up back then although it was disgusting and unspeakably gross. Apparently my weak stomach is something I’ve acquired later in life.) When people weren’t willing to pay for any of the 13 puppies… all of the animals were just gone one day. I missed them but mostly was glad I didn’t have to see their sad lives anymore.
These, with much more detail of course, are the memories that came rushing back to me in the middle of the night. Considering the big picture, these are almost happy memories, so no idea why I’d forgotten them so completely.
Inundated and overwhelmed, I couldn’t decide what to do with all this. I can’t call Amber at 2:00 AM and haven’t’ seen a shrink in years… (thought I was over all this shit) so decided to purge it out here. Not remotely what I advertised with this blog but then I’ve slacked in publishing anyway so at least I’m consistent.
